


All Things Are Improving Just Slightly (Fab Omens)

by secretsofluftnarp



Series: luftie's short good omens fics [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Queer Eye for the Straight Guy RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pure Speculation, general silliness, no makeover just feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsofluftnarp/pseuds/secretsofluftnarp
Summary: Crowley obviously had a hand in reality television, but Aziraphale invented Queer Eye.





	All Things Are Improving Just Slightly (Fab Omens)

"Ah yes," Crowley said. He leans back, savoring the words. "Reality television. I definitely took credit for that."  
  
"That wasn't your invention?" Aziraphale said. "It was quite creative. Made so many people dreadfully upset."  
  
Crowley shrugged, waggled, and failed to not be flattered. "Well, yeah."

Aziraphale had attempted to tweak the formula a bit. It was reality television, after all, so the hell-stink never truly washed off it. But he always thought there was potential for goodness in it, for stories about genuine humans helping other genuine humans, and if he had _happened_ to imbue certain productions with a certain _energy_, had gotten a little overexcited about the finer things in life and the idea that they could make people happier, there wasn't any harm in that, was there?  
  
_Conspicuous consumerism_, Crowley mouthed, as if that were a winning argument. But that wasn't the point. The point was, they were delightful.  
  
Aziraphale's favorite was Jonathan.

__

  
  
One could think that it was an intuitive connection: Jonathan, who radiated love for everyone, who didn't think that skin-deep was necessarily superficial, who bubbled over with excitement for humans. And if he were to, say, throw himself in Aziraphale's lap while he was reading, and say _o h my god, this literal angel, this widdle cherub face I just want to pinch those cheeks but also scoop me up in those big strong arms_, ...well, Aziraphale would feign reluctance, but he would be pretending.  
  
What Aziraphale would not admit, not ever, was that he had a _type_.  
  
And that type, well, made itself obvious if you looked. Not just leggy, long-haired, with a show-off sort of slinky walk, but also the unconventional gender and outrage at injustice. Jonathan had an entire side project -- a radio programme, was it? -- dedicated to curiosity, to asking questions, whether he understood them fully or not.[1]  
  
Aziraphale could picture Jonathan in Mesopotamia, black shawl wrapped around his head, long hair blowing in the wind, as he stood next to Aziraphale and regarded the Ark. "They're going to DROWN the other BABIES?" he exclaimed in horror, tears immediately in his eyes. "But WHY? That's crazy!" 

Aziraphale didn't have sufficient answers then, and could now, finally, admit that he still didn't.  
  
Jonathan pointed and squealed at the runaway unicorn. "Girl!" he yelled after the galloping creature, and took off running. He was surprisingly fast for a human in a flowing robe and what the desert wind revealed to be platform shoes. "You gotta get on that boat, girl! Gotta make more beautiful little baby unicorns!"

  


If one considered that Crowley had a _type_ \-- which, of course, he would never admit -- one might suppose it to be Tan. The one who insisted he had standards regarding clothing, the dapper one who got vicious when crossed, the one who you just knew had opinions about the right cup of tea. But Tan, in Crowley's opinion, had gotten it wrong along the way. A certain principality had never, ever played at being cool, and it bothered Crowley that Tan did, because Tan decidedly wasn't cool.  
  
Because, let's be honest, Tan would see Crowley and burst out laughing. And it wouldn't be pretty. _I appreciate that he appreciates designer,_ Tan would say of the clothes, _and he's wearing jeans with a flattering cut, which I don't see often enough_. _ But what even is the rest of it? Is it a lifestyle choice or a cry for help? _

Tan had too many opinions about large print shirts and brown suede boots and Crowley wasn't about to listen to his ideas about _ young_ and _chic_that were so clearly...not. He had all the time in the universe, but he didn't have time for that.

Crowley liked Bobby.  
  
It wasn't just that Bobby liked dark-painted, uncluttered interiors, although that helped. They shared a similar design sense, Crowley thought: just add plants, and a few key pieces of art in each room. Crowley could see Bobby surveying his flat, lower lip poked out, nodding in somewhat confused approval: _a few vintage pieces for character, wall-mounting the flat-screen tv really frees up the space_. 

Bobby held, in Crowley's view, the _correct_ amount of skepticism about the church, even if his emotions about it came uncomfortably close to the surface. Crowley wasn't about to engage with a human about the nuances of getting booted out of the reach of God's supposed love, but he imagined they could comfortably share a chat and a smoke break.  
  
(Smoke break? Are you kidding me? Bobby hasn't smoked since he was a kid, he was on tv now, he did all that LA health shit, probably had his teeth professionally whitened.)   
  
Not a chat about anything important, mind. You could talk about nothing, talk about the weather, and still be comforted by the idea that you both have a ficus in the corner and the knowledge that God failed you a long time ago. 

And no, 'blonde outcast' wasn't a _type_, Crowley would insist, if you ever got to ask him. So human of you, setting out to classify everything.

  
  


Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale imagined they had anything to say to Karamo.  
  
(They didn't have anything to say to Antoni, either, but that was hardly worth mentioning. Aziraphale said he didn't want to be cruel, and he appreciated Antoni's growth in later seasons, but the truth was he was a bit...

"Basic," Crowley finished. "That's American slang. _Ya basic._ Devastating.")  
  
  
Aziraphale appreciated that Karamo found interesting ways to make humans happy. 

"Imagine," Crowley said, gesturing at his flat-screen tv, which he and Aziraphale were watching for no good reason at all. "They'd get me in a large-print shirt and a new pair of glasses for what? What's the one who talks about feelings going to do, tell me to explain about falling?"  
  
"No," Aziraphale scoffed. "He'd talk about your --" Aziraphale made a coiling shape with his hands, something he meant to resemble complexity rather than the serpentine. "...self-concept, until you finally admitted you were worthy of love."

Crowley sat in silence for a minute.  
  
"Fine," Crowley said finally, in a croak of a voice that would never admit to being close to tears. "You win. You've got your heaven-stink all over this one." 

Aziraphale put his hand over Crowley's, kind, but also, just a little bit smug.

  


**Author's Note:**

> [1] Jonathan Van Ness has a podcast called _Getting Curious_; Aziraphale has no idea what a podcast is.
> 
> -  
this was going to just be meta and became the smallest fic; if you want to take & run with the idea of them interacting more, please do.
> 
> also on [tumblr](https://nerd-husbands.tumblr.com/post/188075701910/all-things-are-improving-just-slightly-fab)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [All Things Are Improving Just Slightly (Fab Omens) [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069528) by [Lunate8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunate8/pseuds/Lunate8)


End file.
